November 2, 1984One of the bloodiest days in Delhi's annals,All orchestrated through Congress channels;As Sikhs are burned to ashes at the railway,Officials assure the nation that all's okay;This was the day of Block 32's living hell,Like prisoners executed in a flaming cell;The day the police turned a blind eye—Too busy pointing out who next should die.

November 3, 1984The massacre went on 'til 2 in the afternoon,Nary a widow left who hadn't yet swooned;The organized mobs came again and again,Until almost no Sikhs remained to be slain;The paramilitary was satisfied with the toll,Enough Sikh crowns had apparently rolled;As homeless survivors huddled in camps,Neighbors alone shone benevolent lamps.

November 4, 1984But the ray of light was dim and fleeting,As soon came more grimness and bleeding;The last round of killings for good measureWiped out colonies with reptilian pleasure;Later, camps funded by private donationsWere coldly closed by the administration;After four days of state-sponsored slaughter,Even God's Eyes had run dry of water.

The AftermathFor four dark days in November God cried,While thousands of Nanak's children died;Hunted down in Delhi's horrific roadways,Trapped like mice within a sadistic maze;Fumes of kerosene pierced the winter air,As corpses lay beside burning black hair;"When a big tree falls the earth shakes"—Yet the Lion stands as a new dawn breaks!!